


we'll build our altar here

by bysine



Category: Arashi (Band), Japanese Actor RPF, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bysine/pseuds/bysine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Someone in the family is a police mole, Watanabe says. That's why the deal went sour. They've lost a shipment and a ton of money and now it's Nino's job to find the bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll build our altar here

**Author's Note:**

> Massive, massive thanks to illuvium for being the absolute best cheerleader and sounding board I could ever ask for, and to g_esquared for the encouragement and the read-through! Also KY, for all her help with plotting! Title from Bedroom Hymns by Florence + The Machine. Also on lj.

There is a watch on Nino's nightstand that fits perfectly on his wrist. 

"Girlfriend?" asks Sakurai, who has clearly not mastered the art of buggering off after giving someone a lift back to their apartment.

Nino looks at the watch. Perhaps it was Riisa, but this doesn't seem like her. He honestly doesn't know. 

 

"Back from the dead then, Ninomiya-san?" says Yamada. He smiles gap-toothed, sycophantic, and when Nino gives no reply Yamada doesn't press for one. Yamada is nervous, that much is clear. There are faded wounds on his face and he favours his left leg when he walks. 

He finishes counting the money and shuts the briefcase with a snap. Yamada flinches. 

Nino smiles indulgently. He gestures towards Yamada's wounds, watching the way Yamada flinches a second time. 

"Have you been disrespecting people again?"

Something dark crosses Yamada's face, but he says nothing. 

 

He finds Matsumoto waiting at the lobby. "I see you're back to work."

"Yamada seemed surprised."

Matsumoto smirks, and pauses to light what is probably his fifth cigarette of the day. "Are you all fixed up, then?"

"As if you'd care."

"Sho said-"

"Sakurai wasn't even there."

"Wasn't he?" Matsumoto asks, frowning. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. I'm told you're not supposed to be driving."

"I'm fine," Nino snaps. "Don't you have things to do?"

"Has anyone told you you're an ungrateful bastard?"

 

Watanabe had been the one to put things in order for him. "Kimura brought you in, a young punk with no respect for anyone's territory. I told you to beg for your life and you asked for a job, bold as anything."

"Surely you remember that, Kazu?"

The way Nino sees it, Watanabe hadn't really been asking a question. Still he nods and says, "Yes, of course." He considers that meeting; the memory settled in his mind like truth, clear as anything.

"It's good to see you up and about," says Watanabe. It is almost benevolent, the way his eyes crinkle as he smiles. 

Nino opens the briefcase on the table. "Here's your money."

"Good," Watanabe repeats, nodding. "Very good. Did you have any trouble?"

"None at all."

Watanabe nods. "I thought not." He rubs his thumb against the corner of one of the envelopes. After a pause, he says, "You're one of my best men, Kazu."

_Of course_ , thinks Nino, but he cannot help the flash of pride he gets from Watanabe's careful praise. He stands up straighter. "What can I do for you?"

 

"Need a ride?"

Riisa's car is lemon yellow and too small. Nino climbs inside and all he can smell is new leather. The stickers for operating the radio have not yet been removed from the dashboard.

"It drives like a dream," Riisa tells him, turning a corner smoothly. 

His back aches, and the car reeks. "I don't care."

"I know you don't," replies Riisa cheerfully. "Do I look like I give a fuck what you think?"

It is so characteristically _Riisa_ that Nino cannot help but laugh. And then his thoughts skitter abruptly to other things, like the weight of a gun in his hands and the smell of money, and blood.

"What did my uncle want?" Riisa asks when they stop at a traffic light.

Nino looks away. "That's none of your business."

"You're in my car," Riisa says, her voice still playful, "you'll answer my questions."

He remains silent. The lights change from red to amber.

"Kiss me," orders Riisa.

Nino leans in and does exactly that. He really shouldn't. Their lips fit together as the traffic light turns green. Riisa's kisses are hot and poisonous, and when they pull apart her lipstick is smeared across Nino's mouth. 

The van behind them hasn't stopped honking.

Nino glances at the driver through the rear-view mirror. 

Riisa smirks. "Not worth the time."

 

Someone in the family is a police mole, Watanabe says. That's why the deal went sour. They've lost a shipment and a ton of money and now it's Nino's job to find the bastard.

 

The dragon on his upper arm curls down over his shoulder to tangle with the nine-tailed fox on his back. The dragon's teeth are bared in a snarl, but there is something almost serene about the fox's expression.

"It will look more ferocious after I add the colours today," the second Horiyama assures Nino as he examines the outline in the mirror. "Your skin has healed excellently since the last time we met."

Nino reaches round to trace the muzzle of the fox. In the harsh fluorescent light it had been easy to mistake the creature's stillness for resignation, but on closer examination he finds a subtle slyness conveyed in Horiyama's confident lines. 

"Please proceed," he says.

Horiyama beams with relief. Unlike his master, the first Horiyama, he has everything to prove.

"About that scar-" 

 

Sakurai is rooting around in Nino's kitchen again, searching for something to eat. 

"Buy your own damn groceries," Nino snaps, when Sakurai's rummaging gets too noisy to ignore. 

Nino cannot quite recall how they started running in the same circles, but he knows about Sakurai – the honours student who burnt out and fell in with the wrong crowd. Now he cuts Watanabe's drugs for distribution and never gets it wrong.

"You have a phone in your rice dispenser," says Sakurai, scratching at idly at his beard. "What the fuck." 

"Mind your own business," Nino tells him.

"You drink too much, even Matsumoto says so." Sakurai tosses the phone over to Nino. It's a cheap model; cheaper than the one Nino has, which is saying something. The phone Nino currently uses is a second-hand, plastic piece of shit. This one, however, is practically disposable. The battery is completely flat. 

"I think I might have seen a charger lying around somewhere," Sakurai supplies helpfully. "Want me to plug it in?" 

"Like I said," Nino tells him, "mind your own business."

 

By all accounts, there were six men in the know about the deal that night. The first is Watanabe himself; the second, his right hand Higashiyama. The third is Joshima, put in charge of receiving the shipment. The fourth is Kokubun; he had been the driver that night. Sakurai must have been there, too – he's always the one who checks the goods. The last man is Matsumoto. One of the five is the mole. Nino just needs to find out which, and he needs to find out fast.

 

"And how are you feeling today, Ninomiya-san?" 

Dr Aiba Masaki's office smells faintly of lavender and contains far too many pictures of animals for Nino's liking. He's used to it, by now – the brown poodle on the opposite wall; the tiger cub on the desk beside the pencil holder.

"I'm fine," says Nino.

Aiba smiles, foolish and warm. He does this every time Nino comes in, even though Nino is always late and never willing to give Aiba a straight answer. That patience grates on Nino. He has tried to hate Aiba for it but has never quite succeeded. 

"Good, good," says Aiba. "And how's Riisa-chan?"

"Married."

"Oh?" 

Nino laughs. "What did you think? That we were together?"

"No – well, I. Maybe a bit." He coughs, embarrassed, and glances down at his notepad. "Has your back been giving you any problems?" 

"My tattoo is almost finished. The scar's in the way though."

"Ah… I see. Is it a very big tattoo?" 

"I'll show it to you when I'm done. You'll like it – it's got animals."

"Yes, I do like animals," says Aiba. "And your headaches?"

"What about them?"

Aiba puts down his pen and looks at Nino, really looks at him. His expression is all concern and perhaps a little bit of pity.

"You could just answer the questions, you know. There's nothing to worry about," Aiba tells Nino, so sincere it almost hurts. "It's only me, after all."

 

The watch is ten minutes fast. It sits there on Nino's nightstand, ticking away solidly in its own separate universe. Nino has checked the price of the model – expensive, but not extravagant enough to be Riisa. 

There are three missed calls from an unfamiliar number on the phone that Sakurai found. Nino unplugs it from the charger and presses the call button.

Five rings. Then someone picks up. 

"I'm looking for the owner of this phone," Nino says. "By any chance-"

There is a click and then the call is disconnected.

 

"Oi, Nino. Nino-chan!" 

Nino turns to see a tall man standing at the end of the aisle, brandishing a twelve pack of beer. Elsewhere in the convenience store, a bunch of schoolgirls continue to giggle over a magazine. 

"It's been too long," the man says, striding over to Nino. "Seriously, they told me you were out for good."

"Clearly not."

The man laughs. It's more of guffaw, loud enough to startle. "And when were you planning on calling your old pal Nagase? Hm? Tell me you were back from the dead?"

"Well-"

"Nah, don't worry about it." Nagase waves it off magnanimously. "Heard about Anne? She got promoted – she's Assistant Inspector now; Organised Crime. Watanabe's furious."

Sakurai has talked about Anne before. Nino knows she's Watanabe's only daughter. She's also a cop. "She's doing well for herself, isn't she?" he says.

"I suppose. Considering who her father is." Nagase laughs again. "If I were a cop I'd be watching my back around her. Actually, these days I'd watch my back either way. We've got snitches in our family. Anyone could be a cop. _I_ could be a cop."

"Are you?"

"No, but I'll tell you what – I bet _he's_ one." Nagase jabs his thumb in the direction of the refrigerators.

"That's just a man looking at bento."

"That's what he wants you to think. Look at him."

Nino shrugs. "If you say so." 

"Yeah," says Nagase, nodding. "Yeah, he's definitely a cop. It's the normal-looking ones that you've got to be careful of. You hear that, Nino-chan?"

 

The man from the convenience store is there when Nino arrives at the bus stand. When they briefly make eye contact Nino cannot help but think of Nagase's words.

 

"Sho says you haven't been sleeping." The way Riisa says it is more like an accusation than an expression of concern. "My uncle asked after you. I said you were fine."

"I _am_ fine," Nino replies. 

Riisa scoffs. "You're an idiot."

"Pot, kettle."

"Watanabe is not a patient man," says Riisa. The implication is obvious. Nino's time is running out.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I'll do better than that," Riisa replies. She reaches into her tote bag and pulls out a large ring binder. "This might help."

Inside it are pages and pages of photocopied documents; copies of graduation certificates and court summons, newspaper clippings and grainy photographs. There is a long list of things Higashiyama has been charged for, as well as the paperwork for Kokubun's parole ten years ago. He flips past a formal police warning for one Matsumoto Jun, and what looks like all of Sho's transcripts from his time at Keio. 

"How did you get these?"

"I mean to inherit this family when my uncle is gone," says Riisa. Her eyes flash, like she's daring Nino to contradict her. "Did you think I wouldn't keep tabs?"

 

When Matsumoto Jun was in elementary school he won the courtesy award four years in a row. By age fifteen he was getting into trouble for cutting class and hanging around with what his principal speculated was a motorcycle gang. Sakurai Sho registered for both the civil service and Bar examinations during his penultimate year at university. Six months later, he took a leave of absence and never went back. 

All this information is entirely useless. Records say nothing about state of mind, or of the strength of character required for an individual to create and maintain such an elaborate falsehood for years on end.

To live with such a massive lie would be to become entombed in it, Nino thinks. What kind of person would you have to be to choose that?

 

"Hey, sensei."

"Yes?"

"Know how you catch a mole?"

Aiba shakes his head. "No, I'm afraid I don't-"

"You use a trap, or poison."

"Ninomiya-san."

"I've read that castor oil is a deterrent, but that isn't good enough, not really," Nino continues. His head has not stopped hurting for days and his back blazes with pain every night when he lies in bed. 

"You need to rest," says Aiba.

"I need painkillers," says Nino.

"I've prescribed you some."

"I need better ones."

"What you need," Aiba says, more firmly this time, "is to sleep."

"No," says Nino, even though Aiba is exactly right, even though all Nino wants to do is lie down and slip dreamlessly, painlessly into oblivion. "No, I really can't."

 

"I have a shipment coming in next week," says Watanabe, as Nino pours him two fingers of whiskey. "I need to know we won't be interrupted."

"You won't," says Nino, handing Watanabe the glass.

"And how exactly do you plan to ensure this?"

"Use some new faces on this next deal," Nino tells him. "But still have the other five stand by with their men for a pick-up – at five different locations. The one that gets raided is the one with the mole."

"Fine," says Watanabe. "But the police won't bite unless they see goods changing hands."

"We'll stage it," replies Nino. "They'll sample the real thing but the rest of the bricks will be fakes." Riisa knows some guys who might be willing to help.

"Five times?"

"At five different places. You want him found, don't you?"

At this, Watanabe barks out a laugh. His eyes are mirthless. Nino thinks of Anne and wonders how it must feel to be hunted by your own child. 

 

Someone has left a voice message on the mystery phone. When Nino listens to it all he hears is muffled noise. 

 

"It'll work," Riisa tells Nino, as he puts the last batch of fake bricks into a fifth briefcase. 

"It might not," says Nino. And then where would that leave him.

 

"Nino," says Sakurai. He and Matsumoto are sitting on Nino's couch when Nino steps through the door. They've got the television on but neither is paying attention to the baseball game.

"I found this." Sakurai holds out an empty ramen cup. Inside it is what looks like a listening device. Cracked, presumably because Sakurai must have tried to disable it upon finding it. "I found it when I knocked over that old Hello Kitty transistor radio of yours that doesn't work. I think someone's been spying on you."

"Police?" asks Matsumoto.

Sakurai laughs incredulously, but there is a hint of nervousness to it. "Nino's not that big a fish. They wouldn't. Would they?" 

"It looks like a police model," says Matsumoto.

"And how would you know that?" Nino asks sharply.

"Because we've seen one, you idiot. Years ago Watanabe found one of these on his right-hand man and shot him in the head," Matsumoto replies. "Don't you remember? We had to dispose of the body."

 

It's one of them. Nino is sure of it. He can see it in their faces, so schooled in their openness and full of careful, honest concern. But Sakurai's been sneaking about his things and Matsumoto is such a clever, clever liar, and Nino knows he can't trust either of them. 

Whoever it is, it must be suffocating for him – terrifying; to look into the face of that other man who must have spent years in the family and realise how failure and death and relief can all be bound up together. 

He finds he can't breathe.

"Nino," Sakurai is saying, "Nino. What are you going to do?"

 

He goes to see Aiba. He sits in the waiting room with the fish tank and the posters and the magazines, knee jittering the entire time. The receptionist looks terrified by him; Nino doesn't care. 

"I can't trust anyone," he says, the moment he enters Aiba's office. "I really can't."

"Ninomiya-san," says Aiba. "It's all right. Sit down." He doesn't ask why Nino is here without an appointment. He doesn't ask if Nino is all right.

Nino sits, and tries not to shake.

Aiba just says nothing and waits.

"Aren't you going to ask me questions?" asks Nino, after the silence has drawn on for long enough. "How I'm feeling today? Whether I've been experiencing pain?"

"No," Aiba replies. "Not if you don't want me to."

 

That night he sleeps – finally, fitfully, more out of pure exhaustion than anything else. He dreams of locked doors and bright lights, of running and falling and an endless network of rooms. A man says goodbye and his hand is rough and calloused in Nino's. In his dream he runs his palms over warm skin and it fills him with regret and anger so strong he thinks he could die of it. 

"Good morning," says Riisa. She is lying next to him in his bed, propped on her elbow. "Your fingers twitch when you sleep. It's pretty cute."

"Okay," says Nino. He blinks slowly, turns his head to get a proper look at her. "Sakurai let you in?"

Riisa nods. She is gorgeous like this, lying there with her geometric print jumper and her hair spilling over Nino's pillow. But she is not Nino's to love, and when she leans in to kiss him there is all the sweet viciousness of something stolen and wrong. 

"Turn around," says Riisa. "I want to see how your tattoo's coming along." 

She laughs when he obeys; says, "You're so _nice_ when you're not all-the-way awake." Nino merely grunts and shuts his eyes again.

"Which are you? The dragon or the fox?"

"Don't know," Nino mumbles. 

Riisa traces her fingers over Nino's shoulder and down to his back, where the scar lies cleverly hidden in the intricate pattern of Horiyama's ink. "Perhaps you're a bit of both."

"Mm." Nino sighs but doesn't budge when Riisa tugs lightly on his arm. 

"A bit of both," Riisa murmurs, settling back down on the pillow. "But what kind of existence would that be?"

 

That night, Nino follows Watanabe to a warehouse in Yokohama. Elsewhere along Tokyo Bay, Higashiyama, Joshima, Kokubun, Matsumoto and Sakurai have each brought their own men to five other locations for the same pick-up. None of them are aware of the other pick-ups taking place, or this actual one, for that matter. All of them are waiting for Watanabe's go-ahead.

Nino imagines each of them must have been called in beforehand to speak to Watanabe; must have been told that out of all of Watanabe's men, they are the only one he can trust. 

"And does Watanabe trust me?" he had asked Riisa.

She had laughed. "As far as he can throw you. But seven years is a long time." 

A few of the other guys nod in acknowledgement when they catch sight of Nino. He recognises none of them. 

"They're in place," Riisa tells Watanabe. 

"Good," says Watanabe. He glances at his phone. "Our guests have arrived."

The men bringing the goods are around Nino's age, with strong Kansai accents. They assure Watanabe repeatedly that theirs is the best stuff. 

"Of course," says Watanabe, accepting a cigar from the one called Hina. He holds it out to Nino. "Kazu."

Nino breaks the cigar over a mirror on the nearby table. White powder spills out. He divides it into lines and rolls up a thousand yen note. He snorts a line, and then another. 

When it hits him it is with chemical clarity – the rush is incredible; he can do no wrong.

He looks up. They're all watching him.

"It's good," he says. It's really good.

"Excellent," says Watanabe. He turns to Riisa. "Tell the others the goods are coming."

Money changes hands. Two briefcases are handed over to Watanabe's men. Nino rubs the residue over his gums with his index finger. He is euphoric.

 

The first call is from Joshima. Riisa answers. 

"He's done," she tells Watanabe. Half a minute later, she gets a text. 

"Kokubun's fine as well."

The third to report back is Sakurai. 

"There was a quality issue," says Riisa after she's hung up. "He says they haggled the price down. He's clear."

Twenty minutes pass before the fourth call. 

It is Matsumoto. He's encountered no problems.

Only Higashiyama is left. Watanabe's face is impassive as they wait. Nino sniffles and swallows; passes a shaking hand over his face. His mind is racing – they've got the mole, they must have; it was Higashiyama all along and the plan worked, it _worked_ , it must have–

Riisa's phone rings. "It's Higashiyama," she says. "He's clear."

No. 

"Um, Boss?" One of Watanabe's men approaches them, holding a brick. "I think there's something wrong with the goods."

 

"Of course there's something wrong with them," says Watanabe. "These bricks are fakes. Higashiyama received the real shipment." 

_No._

Watanabe looks to Riisa. To her credit, she doesn't even blink.

"People talk," she says quickly. "If they've heard you're looking for the mole–"

"You said his plan would work."

"I said it was likely to," Riisa replies. "Perhaps it's too soon after."

"Would you call six months too soon?" 

"No, but–"

 

Time seems to stretch and contract. Riisa is still talking, so desperately and persuasively; she's always had another plan, a better plan, and someone inside the police is doing her a favour–

Nino breathes and blinks; Watanabe leaves without a second glance at him.

"He was testing me too," says Nino, when they're in Riisa's car. The feeling of well-being from before has completely fled him and in its place is a dark and gnawing anxiety. He feels nauseous.

"Of course he was," Riisa replies impatiently. "Did you think that just because you almost died escaping that night you were automatically excluded from the list?"

"What?" asks Nino, before he can stop himself. His arms and legs feel intensely warm all of a sudden. His head is throbbing. 

"Out of the six of you that night, Higashiyama is the only one Watanabe really trusts," Riisa is saying, "I vouched for you, but–"

The world spins. Riisa is saying his name, fumbling with her phone and Nino tries to raise his head but can't; he can't move or speak, he can't–

 

"Ninomiya-san."

Nino opens his eyes. Aiba is standing by the bed, clearly having just arrived – he's still wearing his duffle coat and scarf. 

"What time is it?"

"Slightly past three in the morning," says Aiba. "You're in the emergency ward. I looked at your chart, it says you experienced a temporary blockage of blood flow to your brain."

It's been more than two hours since he'd been in the car. "Riisa–" Nino begins.

"Riisa brought you in?" asks Aiba. "The nurse said she left immediately without giving them any information."

It makes sense. It wouldn't do for her to become implicated in anything. He feels raw. Whatever they've given him has taken his panic away and replaced it with a vague numbness. 

"I'm in trouble," Nino tells Aiba. "The night I got hurt. Six months ago. I thought it was just an isolated accident but now I think was helping with the deal that turned sour."

"Do you remember what happened that night?" 

"No," Nino says. "I don't remember."

This is what he has managed to piece together: while Watanabe was meeting the Thais to hand over the money, Kokubun and Joushima had gone to receive the shipment. Nino must have been with them. The deal had gone south, the cops had arrived, and the entire shipment had been dumped into Tokyo Bay. According to Sakurai, Takeuchi's unit from Organised Crime Control had rounded up the lot of them, but released them an hour later because there had been no evidence to charge them with. 

Aiba nods as Nino recounts this. "And you think that's how you got hurt?"

"Riisa said I almost died escaping – I suppose that was when the accident happened."

He doesn't remember much from before that, either. He has islands of memories, brief flashes of feeling and clarity, of things people have said to him. They come to him most readily in the moments just after he awakens, like the tail-ends of dreams. 

"Does anyone else know the extent of your memory loss?" asks Aiba. 

"No," replies Nino. "Sakurai probably has the best idea." Sakurai had been the one to get Nino back on his feet, after his discharge from the hospital.

"But you've not told him exactly how much?"

"No." He can't. He'd lose whatever standing he's managed to gain in the family. Watanabe would throw him to the dogs. 

He glances up at Aiba and sees not pity but sadness on his face. The depth of feeling disconcerts Nino.

"Get some rest," Aiba tells Nino, reaching over unexpectedly to pull up the blanket. "You must be exhausted."

 

There's a man here to see him, a nurse tells Nino. She's not pleased; it's after visiting hours. 

The man apologises to the nurse as he enters the room. He is of average height; nondescript, slightly dwarfed by his large black coat. 

For a moment Nino thinks he's seen him before. But it is a feeling he has experienced countless times with strangers' faces on streets and train platforms – it vanishes as soon as it appears.

The man nods when he sees Nino. "Perhaps you would like some fresh air?" It's not quite a question. 

They go to the hospital rooftop. "Cigarette?" says the man, holding out a pack of Mild Sevens.

"I don't smoke," Nino tells him.

"Oh. Well, neither do I," the man replies, putting the cigarettes back into his coat pocket. He looks disappointed. "Just thought you might like them. You used to."

Nino just shrugs and leans his elbows against the metal railing.

"So this is how you've managed," says the man. "You just keep silent until more information is offered up to you. This way you don't let on how much you don't actually know. That's smart."

Nino says nothing. The man looks out into the distance; fiddles with a button on his coat sleeve. 

Finally, he speaks. 

"It's been tough on you. Sorry I've not come earlier." He pulls something out of his pocket and flips it open to show Nino. It's a police identification badge. "Here. I'm Ohno Satoshi. We've met."

"Have we now?"

"Of course," Ohno replies. "Most recently at a convenience store. You ran into an old friend there, if I recall correctly."

Nagase. The man with the bento. And then later, at the bus stop –

"That was you, by the refrigerator. Nagase was right."

"I would have made contact with you at that point if not for your friend," Ohno tells him. "We've been trying to get you out safely for months."

Slowly but surely, the possibility creeps into his mind. Watanabe's test. Six men, and an unsprung trap. A mole that didn't take the bait – not out of caution but because he simply _didn't know_.

"No," says Nino. " _No_."

"Yes," says Ohno. "You're an undercover officer."

"You're a liar."

"Your name is Ninomiya Kazunari. You joined the Metropolitan Police Department Academy at age 18. Two years later you agreed to take on an undercover assignment. You spent a year in jail for assault and battery, and then you started working for Watanabe. You've been with him for seven years, but you're one of ours."

"I can't be. I don't–"

"Remember?" Ohno interjects. "Consider your memory loss. You lied about it for at least four months straight. That day in the convenience store, when a close associate of yours approached you and you hadn't the faintest idea who he was, you pretended you did and got away with it."

"What does that have to do with any of this?" asks Nino.

"It's almost instinctive; you've lived with it for so long," says Ohno. "These secrets you keep."

"You're calling me a natural liar?"

"I'm calling you one of the best undercover officers I've ever worked with," Ohno replies. "And now I'm telling you it's time to come back."

 

"Think about it," Ohno had said. 

Ohno's account continues to make desperate, chilling sense. The listening device Sakurai had found – not meant for Nino but in fact belonging to him. The unknown number had been Ohno's. And the watch – 

"It was a birthday gift from Superintendent Takeuchi."

"Who?" 

"The only other person who knows of your identity."

Nino has three days before he is discharged from hospital. In that time he tries wildly to dredge up any small shred of memory he might have. The harder he tries, however, the more things slip away. 

Over and beyond that, it is the look on Ohno's face that Nino keeps returning to. All that hope and contrition; that dismay, when Nino had turned down his cigarette. Thinking back, there had almost been a sense that he had been holding back from something – from saying more, perhaps. Ohno's hands had stayed in his pockets that entire time. 

 

"Would hypnosis help?" he asks Aiba.

"It might," Aiba replies. "It would still take time, though."

"You said, at the beginning, that usually the memory just – comes back on its own."

"Spontaneous recovery, yes," says Aiba. "But like the name suggests, we really don't know when that might happen."

 

"I don't trust you," Nino tells Ohno when he appears three days later. They go up on the roof again. Ohno does not offer him a cigarette. 

"That's a pity," says Ohno. "I wish you would. Six months ago you told me to trust you, because you had details of Watanabe's next shipment and enough evidence of his other activities to put him in prison for life."

" _For life_ ," Nino repeats.

"You told me you had files detailing his offshore bank accounts and money laundering activity," says Ohno. "Seizing the drugs would have been enough to take him out of the picture. With the information, we'd be able to cripple Watanabe's organisation by seizing his assets as well."

"Did I give you those files?" 

Ohno shakes his head. "We were planning to meet the day after the deal. But you got hurt, and–" he pauses. "Well, that's the past. Have you given the matter some thought?"

"If you were merely being opportunistic, you wouldn't be taking me out of the field. Where's the sense in turning a spy and then bringing him in?" Nino says. "But on the other hand, you've not given me any evidence."

"No, I'm afraid not. For obvious reasons we erased your records with the Academy," says Ohno. He pauses for a long moment. "Well, there is one thing. It's – I'm not supposed to have it." 

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a tattered photograph. "You'd probably have killed me for having this, six months ago."

In the picture is a fairly large group of young men and women sitting at a table in an _izakaya_. Only three people near the foreground are actually posing for the camera; the others appear oblivious of its presence. Seated at the far end of the table is, unmistakeably, Nino. 

The timestamp in the corner has been coloured over with a black marker, but it is fairly easy to guess how old the photograph is. Nino is young here, painfully so, and he's got his arm slung around another man who is quite clearly Ohno. Ohno is reaching forward with his chopsticks to pick something up and Nino has turned his head slightly to say something to him. They're both grinning like idiots. 

"Yes, you really shouldn't have kept this," says Nino dryly. "It's so obvious they're cops." He points at the police insignia on someone's t-shirt. 

"Well," Ohno begins. He looks uncomfortable as he takes the photo back from Nino and stows it away in his pocket with not an insignificant amount of care. "Is this proof enough?"

Nino shrugs. "Perhaps. But what comes next?"

"For starters, you get your life back."

"I don't remember that life," says Nino.

"It'll come to you."

"That's optimistic."

Ohno blinks, and looks away. His expression in that moment is unreadable.

 

Sakurai and Matsumoto come to pick him up. 

"Heard the cocaine really fucked you up," says Sakurai by way of greeting, when Nino climbs into the car. "That's why you shouldn't do drugs."

"That's a bit rich, coming from you," Matsumoto tells him.

"Seriously though, that night – what a fiasco," Sakurai continues. "Watanabe's paranoid as fuck. I'm surprised he doesn't kill us all and be done with it."

"He might just," says Matsumoto darkly. 

Nino leans his head against the car window and says nothing. Not for the first time that week he wonders what sort of man he really is. A traitor and a liar. A cop. It seems impossible that he could have lived like this for seven years. 

 

"Nino," says Riisa. She doesn't apologise for leaving him. She has never been obliged to stay, in the first place.

Nino just lets her in. He always does.

"I'm–"

"Shut up," says Riisa, and kisses him.

 

Later, in bed, Riisa pulls out a cigarette from her pack of Mild Sevens and lights it. "Here," she says, handing it over to Nino. 

He takes it; watches as Riisa lights one for herself. 

"My uncle's furious," she says, drawing deeply on her cigarette. "Not just with you – with me, with everyone. If he doesn't find the mole soon he'll take you all out, like he did Kimura. I heard him."

"What's his next step?" asks Nino, keeping his voice as casual as possible.

"I told him I've got someone inside the police who owes me a favour," says Riisa. She scoffs. "As if I'd trade that favour in for _him_."

"You're not going to?"

"Of course not," says Riisa. "It's time, Nino. I'm getting rid of him. Claiming my inheritance. How does that sound?"

"Dangerous," Nino replies.

Riisa laughs, and for a moment the worry is gone from her face. "You'll stick around, won't you?"

"Sure." Nino's cigarette has burnt to ash in his fingers. He drops the butt into the dish on his nightstand. "I'll be your kept man and everything."

"How ridiculous. You're going to have to earn your keep, you know," Riisa tells him. She shifts over to rest her head on his shoulder. "Lie low for a while. Make your excuses if you can. You don't want to be caught up in this."

"I already am," says Nino. "Inextricably. You said you vouched for me. To Watanabe."

Riisa turns to look at him. She smiles. "Of course I did, stupid."

Nino nods and leans in to kiss her again. His stomach churns with guilt. 

 

He hasn't said yes to Ohno. Neither has he declined. 

Logic and self-interest dictate that he should get out, quickly and as soon as he has the chance to. Seven years is a long time in the family – far, far longer for a police mole. There shouldn't be a reason for his hesitation, regardless of whether he remembers why he chose all this in the first place. And yet.

If Riisa's plan fails, Watanabe will not be forgiving. Nino doesn't know what she has in mind, but the risk is too great.

He needs to move before she does. He needs to get Watanabe out of the way before Riisa can try. Those files Ohno had mentioned. Nino needs to find out where he put them. 

 

He searches the whole apartment; goes through his entire hard drive. Unused pots and pans, the insides of books. He finds an unlabelled disc that turns out to be Sakurai's porn collection. 

"Lost something?" asks Sakurai, when he comes by to claim it.

"Yeah," says Nino. He doesn't even know what he's looking for – it could be a disc; papers, some kind of flash drive – "My porn collection."

"I'm hurt that you don't see the value of this," Sakurai replies. He waves the disc in Nino's face. "It's excellent stuff."

"Whatever you say," Nino tells him. 

"Sure," says Sakurai, scratching his beard. "Not to worry, it'll turn up. Whenever I lose things they're always actually in really obvious places." He gestures at his glasses. "Like sometimes I'm looking for these but I'm actually wearing them–"

 

"Leave it," says Ohno over the phone. "Stop looking for the files and get out."

"You said they were important, didn't you?" asks Nino. "Why give up now?"

There is a rustling sound as someone snatches the phone from Ohno. "Ninomiya, this is Takeuchi. I'm asking you to let those files go because you are in danger. You're not in a stable condition and whatever cachet you had with the organisation has run out."

"If I let those files go I'm letting Watanabe go," Nino tells her. 

"You're a policeman, Ninomiya. This is an order."

"No. I'm not," says Nino. "Not if I don't remember."

 

"We're moving the goods to a new warehouse tomorrow night," Riisa says. "I'm tipping off the police."

"Perhaps," says Nino, "that's not the best idea."

Riisa smiles. "Afraid, Nino?"

"Yes," Nino replies truthfully. "I think we need more time to consider this." He needs more time to find the files.

"There isn't more time," says Riisa. "I need you with me."

 

They go in three vehicles, with Watanabe's car leading the group. The warehouses change every few months, and the passcodes to enter them are known only to Watanabe. Riisa takes the van carrying the goods; Kokubun drives. 

From the faces Watanabe is using this time it seems like the storm might have blown over – Nino is there, for one, as are Sakurai and Matsumoto. The three of them go in the last car, together with a twitchy kid named Chinen who greets each of them reverently and falls into an awed silence.

Matsumoto smokes out of the window the entire time, glancing agitatedly at the mirrors. "I think we have a tail," he says. 

"Possibly," Nino replies, but it's unlikely. Riisa has got a tracking device that the police are using to triangulate their location. There shouldn't be a need for a tail.

Sure enough, the car behind them peels away at the next exit, leaving them to proceed down the half-empty highway. "It's gone," says Sakurai, craning his head round as it drives away. 

The warehouse is slightly north of Saitama prefecture. There is not a soul in sight when they arrive.

"Are you one of Joshima's then?" Sakurai is asking Chinen. 

"I thought I saw you running an errand for Kokubun," Matsumoto interjects, lighting his next cigarette from the remains of his current one.

Nino pays them no attention. His eyes are on Watanabe as he enters the access code, flanked by Joshima and Kokubun. With a loud groan, the roller shutter begins to lift.

Riisa climbs out of the van. "Come on, there's work to be done."

As the others begin unloading the goods from the van, Nino glances over at Watanabe. There is something not quite right about the whole thing. He seems too relaxed, almost.

"Aniki," Chinen begins. "Should we–"

He is interrupted by the scream of sirens and sudden bright lights as a dozen cars swerve in to surround them. 

The ensuing chaos lasts all of fifty seconds. One moment Joshima is ordering everyone to run as gunshots are fired; the next, Nino is being slammed against the side of the car, a gun pressed uncomfortably against his head. 

"Superintendent Takeuchi," he hears Watanabe say. "What a coincidence." 

"Save it," says Takeuchi. Out of the corner of his eye Nino sees that she is holding up one of the bricks. "What's this?" 

"What do you think it is?" Watanabe asks. He sounds calm, terrifyingly so. 

In one jerky movement Takeuchi rips open the plastic, spilling white powder onto the ground. 

"Don't move," says the officer restraining Nino, nudging his head with the gun such that he's forced to look down.

He catches sight of Chinen, who has been pinned to the ground. His hands are twisted in an awkward position that probably hurts, from the way his right finger keeps twitching.

"-flour," Takeuchi is saying. "You're moving flour. What the hell are you playing at?" 

Chinen's finger is not twitching, Nino realises. He's tapping and scraping against the sleeve of his left hand in some sort of sequence. 

A word floats to mind, unbidden. _Begin_. 

Nino blinks rapidly. His vision is going hazy. _S-h-i-p-m-e_

It's morse code. He understands it. 

"Ma'am," one of the officers is saying, "the whole warehouse is full of it. It's just flour."

He can feel himself starting to breath too fast and too deeply – the officer restraining him is telling him to calm down, but it's all coming to him and it's too much, far too much –

– _You'll be putting yourself in great danger_ , Chief Superintendent Ogura tells him, while beside him Inspector Takeuchi looks deadly serious. _You might not come back alive_ , she says, and Nino responds by telling her exactly how many folders there were on the desk beforehand according to size and colour; there were two mugs and one had a chip on it –

– Watanabe smiles and says, _I expect great things of you, Kazu_ , and the sake burns as Nino swallows it – 

– _It's been three years and I want out_ , he tells Ohno, because Ogura is dead now and Watanabe shot Kimura in the head for being a mole; looked him straight in the eye and shot him, and Nino has never been so afraid in his life –

– _Now that_ , Takeuchi says to him, _was a job well done_. He's never heard her so happy before. _Now let's finish off Watanabe and wash our hands of this business_ –

– _Got any family to go home to for the New Year?_ Matsumoto asks, and when Nino shrugs and shakes his head Sakurai slaps him on the back and says _we're your family now_ –

– Ohno holds out a pack of Mild Sevens and Nino swipes the lot, grinning. _Happy birthday_ , Ohno says, _this is from me and the Superintendent_ – 

– It's a watch, of course it's the watch; when Nino opens up the back case he finds just barely enough space for him to place the smallest of memory cards –

– _I've got the files_ , Nino tells Ohno while Riisa's still in the shower, _there's enough to put him away for two lifetimes_ –

"Sir, pull yourself together," the officer says sharply. "Sir - are you all right?"

He's on the ground now, with two guns aimed at him as the officer checks his pulse. He knows that face; it's Watanabe Anne. 

"What's going on here?" Takeuchi snaps, striding over to them. 

Chinen had been communicating the status of the raid to someone else. Nino needs to get this message to Takeuchi somehow. _D – I – V_

"I don't know – he just collapsed," Anne says. 

Nino continues tapping. _E – R – S_

"He's not well," Sakurai calls out, "he was just discharged from hospital."

_I – O – N_. Takeuchi gives Nino a hard look. "He needs medical attention," she says. "Take the rest back to the station."

 

"Surely you're not arresting us for possession of _flour_ ," says Watanabe with polite incredulity. 

"No," Takeuchi replies, "but I have reason to believe that an actual deal of yours is taking place right at this moment."

Watanabe laughs. "You have no proof, Superintendent," he says. "I'm afraid this is all a terrible misunderstanding–"

If they are to find out what the location of the actual deal is, they need to know who Chinen is communicating with, and how he's transmitting the signal. Takeuchi has no way of knowing about Chinen, however, not until it's too late and the deal is over. Unless –

"I've found the mole," Nino calls out, lurching to his feet. He manages to knock Anne aside long enough to scramble over to Chinen and grab at his sleeve, exposing a mobile phone wristwatch. "The little bastard ratted us out-"

"I said get down!" Anne barks, pushing him back onto the ground. "Hands on your head!"

Takeuchi is there in a trice, pulling the watch from Chinen's wrist and tossing it to another officer. "Take this to the command vehicle," she says. _Track the signal_ , is the implication. 

"We're bringing them all in," orders Takeuchi. "Now."

With grim efficiency, the police begin hauling the others into the waiting vans. A police ambulance pulls up alongside them half a minute later.

"Assistant Inspector," Takeuchi calls out, "I need you in the command vehicle after you get him in the ambulance."

"Right away," Anne replies, cuffing Nino's hands behind his back. "That's enough trouble from you for tonight," she tells him.

 

"Are you hurt?" Ohno asks the moment the ambulance door is shut.

"The files," says Nino. "I know where they are."

 

"They've been sitting on my nightstand for six months."

 

Takeuchi's team manages to track down the location of the deal based on the telephone number Chinen had called. They arrive just in time to seize control of the drugs and catch Higashiyama and the rest of Watanabe's men. 

"You should have seen the look on Watanabe's face when he heard the news," Takeuchi tells Nino. "And this was before he was told about the money laundering charges."

Nino's memory chip contains enough information to put Watanabe away for good, as well as seize a large chunk of his assets. Fraud, money laundering, offshore accounts – the works. 

"The organisation is very much crippled at the moment, with so many of its assets frozen," says Takeuchi. "And with Watanabe gone, we anticipate some sort of internal power struggle will keep them occupied for some time."

"Perhaps not for as long as you'd like," Nino tells Takeuchi, thinking of Riisa and her resolve, of the way her face had looked in the light that evening as she sat in his bed and told him her plans. 

"You really think Naka Riisa will be able to seize control of the Watanabe group?" asks Ohno.

"I'm sure of it," Nino replies. The first time Nino had ever met Riisa, it had just been discovered that one of the older guys had been skimming from the collection money. _Did you think I wouldn't have noticed?_ she had asked the man, but instead of turning him over to Watanabe like they had expected, she had dealt with him herself. _If your wife is ill you should have asked the family._

She had let him keep the money as a loan. In return, the man had given Riisa his finger and his loyalty. 

It isn't just Riisa's strength and cunning that makes Nino so certain – it is her ability to inspire devotion. 

"Well, it's out of our hands for now," says Takeuchi. "And it's definitely out of yours, Ninomiya. Taking down Watanabe was your last assignment – we agreed on that."

"Not going to ask me to hang on for another year, then?" Nino asks dryly. 

"I think your intentions were quite obvious to us from the way you named the folder in that memory chip you turned in," says Ohno, with a smile. "'Early retirement'."

 

When the Superintendent-General presents Nino with an official commendation for outstanding service, it is in a small room with only two other people in attendance. 

There is no other choice, after that, but for Nino to leave; Tokyo is far from small but it is too small for someone like Nino, not when there are eyes everywhere and too many of Watanabe's associates still holding power. 

He sends Aiba a thank-you card with no name on it before he leaves. Soon, news of Nino's death will be circulated around the various families. Riisa will rise to power with someone else at her right hand – Matsumoto, perhaps. Perhaps she will wonder if Nino had been the mole.

"Where will you go?" asks Ohno.

Nino shrugs. "Not too far, I hope."

"Ninomiya," says Takeuchi. "Thank you for your service."

"There's no need to thank me," Nino replies. "I'm a cop."

**Coda**

It has snowed continuously for a week in Asahikawa. Nino is not made for this sort of weather.

"Don't even start," says Aoi, the moment Nino steps into the station. "You've spent four years grousing about Hokkaido weather and it's time you got used to it."

"Wasn't going to say anything," Nino lies, stopping at the welcome mat to stomp the snow off his boots. 

"You should have seen him out there," Ikuta says, bursting in past Nino. "Whenever we had to get out of the patrol car he looked completely miserable."

"You were pretty grumpy yourself," Nino replies. "When we were putting on those tyre chains."

"Lies," says Ikuta. "I'm impervious to the cold. I've got winter in my blood."

Aoi rolls her eyes. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Whatever," says Ikuta, "I feel like ramen." He turns to Nino. "Want to have ramen later?"

When Nino first arrived in Asahikawa it had been Aoi who had shown him around the Area Headquarters. Ikuta, who had transferred in from Kushiro a month later, had sort of just fallen in with Nino. They're good sorts, Aoi and Ikuta. They talk enough to cover Nino's silences, and don't ask him too many questions. He's seen Ikuta glancing at the tattoo on his back when they change in the locker room, but in the past four years Ikuta has never brought it up. 

He still dreams, sometimes, that he is back in Tokyo, searching Watanabe's house for evidence and discovering that he is trapped in an endless maze. Some mornings he wakes with no sense of who or where he is. On cold days, his back aches in a way that no amount of painkillers can quite suppress.

Most of the time, however, he just appreciates the perfect clarity of a life unclouded by fear.

 

They head out to one of the lesser-known ramen shops in Asahikawa, which they have frequented so often that the shopkeeper knows their orders. Ikuta spends the entire drive there being smug about how he's getting married in a month.

"I don't see anything to be smug about," says Aoi, as they head down the street. "I bet you'll regret it."

Ikuta looks hurt. "You say such cutting things, Yu-chan."

"There, there," Nino tells him. "You know what she's like." 

"Yes," says Ikuta, "but that doesn't mean it doesn't still piss me off."

"I wish you'd both stop calling me Yu-chan," Aoi says. 

Nino is no longer listening. 

A car has pulled up outside the hotel entrance up ahead, received by a contingent of men in suits. One of them hurries over to open the door, bowing deeply as a woman emerges. 

"Are you listening to me-"

She is older, and dressed in a sombre suit, but the woman is unmistakeably Riisa.

Matsumoto comes out from the other side of the car, walking round to stand slightly behind Riisa as she greets her reception. The group begins to move inside, but just before she steps through the door Riisa turns.

Their eyes meet. Matsumoto, too, has caught sight of Nino. 

For the longest moment they remain like that, caught on the threshold of mutual recognition, fear and hope and guilt rising in Nino's throat. 

The moment passes. Riisa proceeds into the hotel. 

Matsumoto's gaze lingers on Nino just a second longer. There is something almost like acknowledgement in his expression. And then he, too, turns away.

"Hey, Inspector," Ikuta is saying. "Are you all right?" 

"Yes," says Nino after a pause. His pulse is pounding in his ears. "Yes, I'm fine."

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about after a conversation last summer with g_esquared about the plot of _Saigo no Yakusoku_ and how incredible it would be if instead of the actual plot they'd just thrown in random tropes from Hong Kong/Korean/Japanese dramas. I went back and wrote 800 words of the beginning and then forgot about it. And then on Saturday I started writing it while procrastinating on an essay and didn't stop until six days later. ;___; 
> 
> This is basically what amounts to _Infernal Affairs_ fusion fic, minus the other side and with some other honestly terrible drama tropes included for good measure. It's also the first proper Arashi fic I've written since Christmas 2011, so… hi guys, if you're still there? It's been a while. ♥


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